Anthem of the Angels

"Only one tribute will be crowned the victor."

It wasn't the Gamemakers voice, but the authoritative tone of President Dumbledore himself.

*****

Sirius wiped the blood from his face, he felt his heart racing while it took his brain time to catch up with what his eyes could see.

They were dead, the other tributes were all dead.

All of them except for two.

Sirius looked past the carnage, past the dead bodies strewn across the sand, and found James.

James, his best friend.

James, his brother.

"You did it," James told him, finding the will to warm Sirius with a smile when they knew what had to happen next. "You really did it, Sirius."

"We did it," Sirius corrected him, his voice croaking. Sirius couldn't have done it without James, he knew that. If Sirius had gone in with anyone else, he would have already died.

If Sirius had gone in with anyone else, he might have lived.

"No." James dropped the knife he held for self-defense and he walked toward Sirius, respectfully walking around the bodies instead of over them. "You did this, Sirius. You deserve this win."

"Deserve it?" Sirius shook his head and the blood flicked off the tips of his hair, tears flew off his cheeks. Sirius didn't deserve anything, it was his fault they were even there.

Sirius had been so sure of himself, so confident that he could win. Greyback turned the tables on him when he had Regulus pulled and the world laughed at Sirius when James volunteered for Reggie.

All Sirius deserved was the pain in his chest when he thought of all the things he'd never see again - Regulus's smile, Lily's green eyes, Monty's tobacco pipe, Effie's baked goods.

And James.

James. James. James.

*****

Harry's skin prickled and it took a second to make sense of that, make sense of the sick feeling that curled in the pit of his stomach.

Only one of them.

Blaise released a quiet moan, a sound of heartbreak and fear. It was fuzzy in Harry's ears, he couldn't hear anything past Dumbledore's announcement.

"They tricked us," Harry said, his voice as cold as the ice in his veins. The fire was gone, washed away with the freezing reality that they had been tricked.

Harry had been so fucking stupid.

Never before did Harry believe the Capitol, the government, anyone. Harry knew people lied, he knew they would use others for their own means and never cared if anyone was hurt.

How did Harry get reaped for the Hunger Games and somehow forget that the Capitol lied? They lied and they tricked people and they didn't care that Harry and Blaise stared at each other, their hearts breaking as one.

"I can't believe this," Blaise said. He took a step backward and held his arms at his side, dropping his weapons to the ground. It only took Harry a second to do the same thing, dropping all of his weapons in refusal to play the game.

Couldn't Blaise see it though? Couldn't Blaise see how perfectly they had been used?

Blaise tossed an ember in the arena when he declared to the country that he found Harry attractive. The Gamemakers stroked it when they announced that two tributes could win. It would have set the country off, people cheering to see the Hunger Games be spun as a romance. Harry and Blaise both let the flames grow on screen, bringing the country in to watch their romance blaze through the Games.

Every citizen was surely on the edge of their seats, clutching themselves as they waited to see what would happen when the romance was killed - dead and buried.

It really was the perfect ending, the most dramatic ending of all time.

"Pick your back knife up," Blaise said, raising his chin while his eyes flashed with golden confidence behind the unshed tears. "It's okay, Harry. You deserve this win."

Deserve? How did Harry deserve it? Why would he deserve life more than Blaise?

There was a tightness in his chest, squeezing his insides in an unforgiving grip. Harry's throat burned and he couldn't swallow, he couldn't stop shaking. Nothing hurt him as badly as the final most sickening twist in the Games yet.

They tricked them.

Harry let himself be tricked and it hit him so hard he didn't even have the energy to scream about it. Harry wouldn't anyway, that was what they wanted - they wanted to hear Harry rave about it and laugh when they didn't cave.

"It's not a win," Harry said bleakly. "Losing you wouldn't be a win, Blaise."

Going back to District Twelve without Blaise wouldn't be a win, losing what they built together wouldn't be a win.

Nobody won. Nobody ever won the Games. Definitely not Harry, he should have known. Maybe he had, maybe he had deep down.

It still managed to hurt.

*****

"You have to go home, James," Sirius said, smiling through the tears and the pain. "You've got to meet your kid, tell them about me."

"I can't go home without you." James's voice broke and they were in each others arms, pulling each other together tightly, desperately, crying together at what the won and what they were going to lose.

It didn't matter if the whole country watched Sirius cry, it didn't hurt him any. What was going to hurt was losing James.

How was Sirius supposed to live his entire life without half of his heart? He couldn't, Sirius couldn't do it and he wouldn't without James.

"Reggie needs you," James whispered, his tone harsh and thick with their shared misery. "Take the win, Sirius. Go home and take care of our family."

James was family too, Sirius couldn't leave him behind. Sirius knew how the Games would end the second that James volunteered —

James Potter as the victor and Sirius Black as the final death in the arena.

While Sirius became a memory, James would become a father and a husband. James would take care of Regulus, he'd take care of his parents. When the baby was born, James could tell them about the uncle they never knew. And maybe - maybe Sirius would see them. That was what some people believed, that loved ones never really left.

"I love you," Sirius told James, unashamed. "I love you more than anything, James. I - you're the best person I've ever known."

*****

Blaise grabbed Harry and yanked him to his chest. Harry threw his arms around him and clutched him tightly, desperately. They were tricked. It had been a lie. They were never going to end up together, not in that Game.

It didn't matter if the whole country watched Harry cry, watched him fall apart. It didn't hurt him, not like losing Blaise was going to.

"It must be you, amore della mia vita," Blaise whispered in Harry's ear. "You are the one who will make them pay, you will make them regret the day they pulled your name for their game."

"Me?" Harry laughed and it choked him, pulled him down until his body no longer recognized itself. "No. No. I can't - Blaise, I can't."

When Harry told Taylor that he was willing to live and let Blaise die, it had been a bluff. A lie. Harry lied to Taylor like the Gamemaker lied to them.

Harry wanted to win, he wanted to live. Harry wanted to carve the names of the tributes on the lawn of the President and then burn his body there. That was before though, before only one. That was before Harry realized that he was tired of struggling on his own, he was tired of fighting every day by himself.

They made it to the end because they were a team, a pair. Harry had someone to watch his back for the first true time in his life; an equal who saw Harry break, saw him burn, and never turned away.

"You were meant to be a gimmick," Blaise said, his voice muffled by the top of Harry's head. "Why couldn't you stay like that?"

Why couldn't he? Why did Harry let himself be pulled into Blaise's life, his dreams for the future, the plans they made?

What was going to happen to the plans they made? Did they die with them? Only one was nothing, nobody. One one person struggled to survive, they were alone and had to fight every single day.

Only one couldn't lay in a field and laugh beneath the sunshine.

Blaise was whispering in the language Harry didn't know, would never get to know, and Harry clenched his eyes closed so those whispers played in the back of all the moments they'd never have —

They would have changed the world, ended the Hunger Games or died trying. They would have had a house together, a home. Harry would have met Blaise's mom, he would have met Sirius. They would have gone to Neville's parents together, talked about the man he was.

Harry would have shown Blaise his tent before they made sure every kid in District Twelve knew that they could sleep and live in their house. They would have fed the hungry, housed the homeless, remembered the victims.

Then, when their list of wrongs were rightened, they could have found peace. Harry could have known peace for the first time in his life.

"If it wasn't a trick," Harry breathed.

The Capitol would be laughing, the President was surely smug. Harry refused to play their games until they found the right lie to dangle before him. Then Harry fell in line with the others and turned the arena into a theater they wanted.

How could he have been so stupid?

Blaise pulled away, only enough so they could look in each others eyes and see the reflections of grief for the death of everything they hoped for. The gold in Blaise's eyes were liquid, melting from the force of his own pain.

"What Panem wants, Panem gets," Blaise said.

Yeah, what they wanted, they got… They wanted —

"Only one," Blaise said suddenly, his expression sharpening abruptly. "Harry, they want one."

"Right," Harry said. "We can't both—"

"Fuck them," Blaise snarled. The liquid gold sparkled and Harry didn't understand it, he didn't know what could have reignited Blaise's fury when Harry's was as gone as their future.

"Bellissimo, why should we give them what they want?" Blaise asked, gripping Harry's hands tight. He squeezed them and there was a message there, a plan. Harry could almost see it, almost.

"They lied to us. They used us," Blaise said. "If they can take away what we want, why should we give them what they want? WHY SHOULD ANYONE?"

Blaise was saying what Harry should have been saying, what Harry was too tired to say. Blaise was ready to scream, to burn the arena, to make everyone pay.

Blaise was ready and Harry was so tired.

"Let's take their Victor from them," Blaise said, crushing Harry's hands in his. Harry watched his lips move soundlessly, he knew Blaise was asking for Harry to trust him.

Harry did trust him, Harry trusted Blaise and Blaise alone. Sirius got Harry through the arena, Blaise got him through the Game.

"Okay," Harry said, nodding shortly. They dropped each others hands and moved as one, picking up their weapons and the air was so fresh, the sky was so pink.

The sun had risen while time moved in reverse and they were finished. Nobody ever won the Hunger Games.

"I love you, Harry Potter," Blaise said. He was taller than Harry, Harry had to lean to and Blaise bent down so they could steal each others breath, tangle themselves up in one another one last time.

It wasn't just a little longer, their time was up. It was one last time.

*****

Sirius knew James was going to try and race him, beat him to it. They each had their own ending planned and Sirius wouldn't let James win then, not when it mattered the most.

They held each other and they cried - Sirius swore to protect James's child, James swore to protect Regulus.

And then, as only two people who knew the inner-workings of the other's brain extensively, they moved as one.

James darted away to grab a knife, Sirius lunged for the arrow of the last dead tribute.

"Tell Reggie I love him," Sirius said before he pressed the arrow against his chest.

James moved the knife he found, a single slash of silver, and Sirius's scream almost masked his final words.

"Protect my family."

*****

The whole country would have been watching and Harry didn't think of them, he didn't think about the tragedy he was giving them one last time. Harry looked at Blaise and thought only about him, about all the things Harry held on to.

Harry had never been loved before, he had never given it before. It was Blaise's then, all of it. For just a little longer, all the love that Harry never gave before belonged to Blaise.

A tear slipped under Blaise's eye and Harry reached up to smooth it away and left a smudge of blood on him. Blaise caught Harry's hand and took it to his mouth, pressing his lips to the scars that Harry couldn't count.

"Until the end," Blaise told him. "It will always be you."

Until the end… Harry liked that.

"This is the end," Harry reminded him softly, soft only for Blaise who needed it and earned it.

"After the end then," Blaise said, his gaze unwavering and his breath tickling Harry's hand. "Every sign of love will be my gift to you."

Harry brought in his father's watch, Harry had his godfather watching him behind a screen. Harry had Blaise's love and the eyes of the entire country on him.

Slowly, knowing he had to, Harry peeled off the vest the Capitol sent him. It left him bare, his chest and his scars for everyone to see. Harry wouldn't go in that vest, that mark of someone he wasn't. If he wanted to be free, he'd be completely free.

"For Trent…" Harry raised his knife slowly and pressed the point of it to his chest. It was the same spot where he killed someone for the first time.

One last time - one last death at Harry's hands.

Blaise lifted his blade and put the point against his chest as well. When Harry reached out to him, they entwined their hands.

"For Theo," Blaise said loudly, challenging the laws with his courage and certainty.

Everything was beautiful - the sky, the golden cornucopia glittering behind them, Blaise.

"For Neville," Harry added. He pushed the tip in, he couldn't feel the pain. "For Sirius."

Blaise recited the names of the others and Harry looked upward, up to the sky. It wasn't real, none of it was real. Everything was made by the Capitol, everything except for what Harry had then.

All Harry had was his father's watch, his godfather watching him, Blaise's love, and the eyes of the country on him.

As soon as Blaise was finished, Harry breathed in slowly, tasting the air and wondering if it always tasted so sweet, before he looked at Blaise. Blaise was handsome, anyone would say so. Harry knew he was beautiful though, beneath the scars and blood, beneath the pain and the confidence he wanted to show as his last stand… Blaise was beautiful.

"For you, my love," Blaise said.

Harry dug the knife tip in deeper and blood slowly trickled down his chest, washing him clean from the blood of the others.

"For you," Harry said. He smiled then, a smile that was so easy to give to Blaise when it was one last time. "Until the end."

Blaise's mask shattered. Harry pushed the knife in his own chest as he jerked Blaise's hand, pulling hard so the knife he held in his other hand fell.

"HARRY!"

Blaise's breath hitched and Harry pushed harder on the knife then pulled it out, pulling it out to let the blood flow freely. Harry could pull Blaise closer then, pull him forward so their bodies were flushed together.

There was Blaise, his eyes and his mouth, his tears and his pain. All of him was there for Harry and when everything else greyed at the edges, they were alone.

"I love you," Harry told him, choking on the same pain he inflicted on so many others. "I chose you."

Blaise was shaking, one hand supporting Harry's back and one hand trying to stop the blood from drowning them both. "Stay," he said. "My love, don't - stay…"

Harry's legs trembled and Blaise was there, holding him, lowering him to the ground gently. Blaise cradled him and Harry could see his tears, it was nice.

Having someone to hold Harry at the end, one more time, it was nice. While the warmth faded, Harry could listen to Blaise and look upward, up to the sky and the sunrise.

"Don't leave me," Blaise cried, his hand pressing hard on Harry's chest - too late, too late. "Don't leave me, Harry. I love you, I'll always love you, I swear to it."

Harry opened his mouth and made a sound, one sound he wanted Blaise to hear.

"Until… the end."

It was the end then, Harry knew it.

*****

Sirius tried to stop it, he tried to save him. Sirius held pressure on the cut until the blood stopped…

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN…" a voice filled the arena and it was louder than Sirius's screams, louder than the breath no longer leaving James's mouth. "THE WINNER OF THE 60TH HUNGER GAMES, SIRIUS BLACK!"

James's eyes were unblinking, unmoving. They were pointed up at the sky and Sirius couldn't fix it, he couldn't save him.

Everything that made James Potter so special, so beloved, was gone and all that was left in the world was Sirius Black, an empty shell. The world could have burst into flames and Sirius wouldn't have noticed, he couldn't have. All he could do was feel the waves of grief that crashed into him over and over - the waves that took James's from him.

Before the Peacekeeper grabbed Sirius and pulled him away from James, Sirius saw the watch on James's wrist and took it with him.

If Sirius couldn't take James, he'd take his watch and he would give it to his child - the child he swore to take care of.

James was gone and Sirius couldn't understand it, he couldn't breathe, but he would live on in his child.

*****

With his father's watch on his wrist, his godfather's eyes watching him behind a monitor, and filled with love that he knew he returned - Harry watched the sunrise until the world burst into flames and he won.

Nobody ever won the Hunger Games.

Except for Harry.